


buffalo chicken wing

by sugacookiies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Post Time-Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugacookiies/pseuds/sugacookiies
Summary: miya osamu gets drunk.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	buffalo chicken wing

**Author's Note:**

> ᴀ/ɴ: based on a shitty pick-up line of the same concept. thanks to mae, lisa and atlas for helping me pick osamu!!!
> 
> ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: mention of alcohol

you don’t think osamu has ever been this heavy. maybe all of that onigiri taste testing has finally gotten to his gut…

“samu, it’s just a little more to the bedroom,” you grunt, trying to make sure his arm stays looped around your shoulders so that he doesn’t fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

osamu groans as he stumbles over his own two feet. you let out a surprised yelp as his momentum slams the both of you into the sofa. 

“samu? you okay?” you pry your face from between some pillows and look over at your husband.

he’s absolutely shitfaced after a night of drinking with the inarizaki volleyball boys at their yearly reunion. it’s really not that surprising, given how atsumu was there too. childish competitions were always to be expected between them. except, this time the challenge was on how much beer they could chug in one sitting.

“‘m okay…” osamu mumbles, somehow managing to roll onto his back, long legs thrust over the sofa’s armrest.

his gray hair tickles your arm and you look over at him. his eyes are half lidded, staring back at you giddily.

“babe,” he whispers.

“yeah?”

“yer really hot.”

you laugh as your cheeks warm at his complement. “is that so? you’re pretty hot yourself, samu.”

a few seconds go by as osamu continues to gaze at you reverently. his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, hair askew.

“…like a chicken… buff’lo wing…”

“a buffalo chicken wing?”

“mmmmmhm…” 

you snigger into your hand, trying not to make drunk osamu pouty. despite your best efforts, his lips purse together and he begins to whine.

“why’re ya laughing? ain’t funny…”

you gently smooth back osamu’s messy hair and he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. it doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to get the both of you to the bedroom anytime soon.

“okay, okay. it’s not funny. let’s go to sleep now,” you whisper, and press a chaste kiss against his forehead.

osamu’s already fast asleep - dreaming a dream of buffalo chicken wings with your pretty face on them. there’s not doubt about it, though, that if you’re a chicken wing, you’re _his_ chicken wing. 

buffalo flavour.


End file.
